Counting Stars
by JasperK
Summary: Vash can't sleep - there are no sheep on Gunsmoke, stars it will have to be.


Vash lay flat on his back, staring up at the stars. He was exhausted, which should surely mean that sleep should wrap him up like a lover and tend to his needs. However, sleep was being a fickle mistress tonight. She taunted him with the memory of her, and the comfort she brought. He knew she would return, as she must, but _when_?

He tried counting the stars. After he had come up with a way of dividing the sky and estimating to the nearest ten how many stars he could see with a naked eye –he calculated about four thousand- he closed his eyes.

Memories paraded across his mind.

He opened his eyes. The stars were a better distraction. He tried counting the very faint stars he had ignored on his first count. He got to fifteen thousand before realising the counting was keeping him awake. The intensity of the search had certainly scared off sleep.

He sat up shivering slightly in the cold night air. The desert around him was deserted for iles. Behind him, Wolfwood, Milly and Meryl were all sleeping in their blankets. If he were alone, he would simply have packed his blankets and walked on; walked until his exhaustion dropped him in the sand. It was one way of dealing with himself if he was feeling particularly negligent. No. He would never do that intentionally, as tempting as it was to run away. Which left him with one choice, he had to deal with the real reason he was awake.

He lay back, feeling the grit and sand shift under the blanket he lay on, and stared up at the stars. They now served, not as a distraction, but as a canvas onto which he could paint his reflections. It had started with the girls. No, his heart contradicted him, it had started with his brother. He had never been alone in his early years. Even when he and Knives had fought and disagreed, they had held a link, a companionship. When he and Knives had finally separated, it had left a gaping hole in his heart, which had been filled by anger, fear, remorse and pain. It still was, and it was not the thing he wished to think about now. No, it was not the issue keeping him awake, as he had carried it many years.

He had been right. It had started with the girls. They had followed him. After realising that they would continue to follow him, he had settled into a routine with them. Then, he had scared everyone with the Fifth Moon incident, most of all himself. That was anguish weighing on his heart, but not what kept him awake.

Then Wolfwood had found him. He looked across at the priest who was lying on his side where he had fallen asleep watching Milly. He smiled. He could guess at Wolfwood's past and did not grudge him having found such a beautiful thing to distract him. Wolfwood was great to have around, good in a fight and he gave as much as he got. It was not often that someone would stick around to argue with him. It was not often that someone knew who he really was could stick around. Vash blinked away tears in his eyes. There it was, a part of the reason he could not sleep: fear swirling in a tumultuous storm in his soul, and the intermittent light beacon of hope.

He glanced at Meryl curled up beside her tall friend. She was soundly asleep, with her mouth slightly open and a peaceful expression on her face. A smile twitched at his face, he could dream. Both girls had found him and Wolfwood again, and had returned to the routine they had established after their first meeting. Yes. That was what it was that was bothering him. The heart of it. He knew what he had to face, and knew what he had to do. He also knew that there was possibly such a thing as coincidence, but in the workings of life, it was probably more providence. He was terrified at what lay before him, yet he had the close support of three people who had followed him into the fire and had survived. As painful and as terrifying as it was, he had friends.

He settled in his blankets and breathed out as a shudder ran through him. Fear did not leave him, but the anxiety which it had tied to his bones did. He would do what he must, as they who dared to follow him would. Death, a close companion, would always follow but he would mourn if the time came. It would not do to borrow tomorrow's troubles. He closed his eyes and sought out death's lesser companion, sleep, and found her more attentive than she had been of late. His memories as he fell deeper into slumber were of the skies and their thousands of stars, and deeper still, of three souls brave enough to follow in the wake of his dark fate.


End file.
